Aftermath
by mousanony
Summary: 'Family' is not a concept Ziva has ever really known. When the director of Mossad  and incidentally her father  is killed, Ziva wonders if she will ever really have a happily ever after. TIVA; team happiness.


**_A/N: _**_So this is something quite different to my normal stories... or anyone's normal stories I guess. I hope it makes sense and you enjoy it. _

_Please review :) _

_**Oh yeah, DISCLAIMER: **Do I own NCIS? _Sodium Hypobromite. (If you understand this, you're a friggen legend). __

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><p>She wonders if this feeling is true happiness.<p>

His hands combing through her hair, their fingers intertwined. They're all at Ziva's again, celebrating her 33rd birthday. She complains that she feels old, and Tony rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, freaking ancient," he says, and grins at her. His hand tightens around her waist and Gibbs swats at the back of Tony's head, but his face belies his amusement. Tony rubs his head and Ziva stifles a laugh.

"You know, Boss," Tony says, frowning. "We aren't on the clock right now, so technically we can do whatever we like."

Gibbs swiftly delivers another slap and Tony winces as Ziva looks around the room. McGee and Abby are fighting over some new game, and Ducky is indulgently trying to play referee. Palmer watches on with an expression somewhere between amusement and confusion.

Tony whispers in Ziva's ear: "Reckon we can slip out for a bit?"

She looks around the room again and smiles. "Later Tony." She puts a hand on his chest and laughs as he pouts at her. "I'm okay right here for now." In his arms, surrounded by the people she loves.

000

When he speaks, his voice is low, and tolerant, as if he would talk forever just to soothe her.

"You have," he begins, "a Ducky, a Palmer, a Gibbs, an Abby, a McGee, and-" he takes a step toward her and smiles lightly- "a Tony." In a mock-conspiratorial whisper: "I saved the best for last."

"Tony-" Ziva tries to cut in, but he holds up a hand, and for some reason she doesn't really know, she stops talking and listens.

"You don't have a sister, or a brother, or a mother, or a father, or any grandparents." He takes a step forward and pulls her into his arms. "And you don't need them."

She shakes her head against his shoulder. "How could you know that?" he voice is muffled. "Who would I be if I'd had all that? Would I be a better person?" She's pulled away from him now and is looking at him with an absolute hopelessness that Tony, before today, would never have associated with her. It scares him more than he cares to admit to himself.

He raises a hand to her cheek and cups it for a moment, before trailing his fingers across her jaw and then from the top of her hairline to her ear, where he tucks an errant curl away. His hand continues it's movements down her neck, across her collarbone, and he feels her shiver unconsciously under his touch.

"Tony..." she tries, but he cuts her off, pulling her to him once again.

"A better person?" he shakes his head. "Impossible."

She squints at him, trying to work out whether or not she should be offended. Recognising the expression, Tony chuckles, and she feels it reverberate from his chest to hers.

"I don't know if you've realised it, David, but you're kind of perfect."

She wonders if this feeling is true happiness.

000

"I have no family," she says, and she doesn't even recognise the voice that speaks those words. She can't believe it is her own.

His fingertips brushed across her cheek only for a moment, but she felt them there long after. He said nothing, just watched as her mind spun before him, churning out thoughts and words and then discarding them.

Her forehead crinkles slightly and he wonders if she might cry or something, and if he should turn away so that she can pretend he sees nothing. But then, her expression changes to something else; something walking the borderline between realisation and acceptance. "I never did, did I?"

He just stares at her for a moment as her eyes plead with him to give her some kind of answer, some kind of reason why her life turned out this way.

When he speaks, his voice is low, and tolerant, as if he would talk forever just to soothe her.

000

She realises it in the shower four days later. That she is not fine. She is alone. Completely and utterly alone.

Eli David was not family by any common measure, but he represented something. He was the last remaining member other than herself of the David family. She had never expected to be the last one left. The water pelts her skin, and is probably more than a few degrees too hot, but she doesn't even notice. When she does get out, after the water has run cold and she's lost the ability to have coherent thoughts, she finds Tony in her lounge room. She stares at him and ties her robe, waiting for the answer to her unasked question.

"I picked the lock," he offers, and gives a lopsided smile. "You didn't answer and..." he trails off, because the words don't need to be said. _I was worried. _

She heaves a sigh and walks to him. "How do you know?"

He just shrugs. "Director of Mossad assassinated? We were always going to find out, Ziva."

She nods numbly, and wonders fleetingly why she though she could ever keep it a secret. "How long?" _...have you known? _

"Two days."

Her mouth forms an 'oh', but she doesn't make the sound.

"You okay, Ziva?" he asks, tentatively, hoping like hell that she won't close up now.

She forces a smile. "Fine and sandy." She messes up the idiom on purpose, hoping that if he mocks her English he'll forget about why he's really here.

But he simply ignores it, like she had kind of known he would, and steps toward her. "Come on, Ziva." His voice is soft now, inviting.

She gives a forced half shrug before she speaks.

"I have no family," she says, and she doesn't even recognise the voice that speaks those words.

000

He flicks the elevator and turns to her, ready to tell her to go home and rest and not come back for a week. Her words are out before he can even open his mouth.

"My father died a long time ago, Gibbs. The director of Mossad died yesterday. They are separate entities. And I am fine."

Gibbs stares at her with the same expression he uses on suspects to get them to confess. He is used to them cracking, blubbering, and blurting all their secrets. But today his victim matches him stare for stare. He cracks first, and averts his gaze.

"How do you want to do this, Ziva?" he says finally.

His question is ambiguous, but she know exactly what he is asking. "I would like for you to ignore this. Please."

He looks at her skeptically and she thinks he will argue with her, so she holds and hand up.

"I am fine, Gibbs. Honestly."

He stares a moment longer, before giving an unconvincing nod, and flicking the elevator switch once again.

She realises it in the shower four days later. That she is not fine.

000

Gibbs finds out from Vance the next day.

The news of the assassination of the director of Mossad was never going to stay under wraps for long.

That's how Vance delivers the news: "The director of Mossad has been assassinated." He stresses the words in a way that makes Gibbs' stomach drop. He tells him the way that he should- just the information and nothing more. But Gibbs reads between the lines, between the emphatic way Vance says 'Mossad', the way his eyes kind of crinkle and flicker ever so slightly to the floor. Between those painful, blood red lines, it says in big, bold letters: Ziva's father is dead.

Gibbs swallows to gain his composure. "They're handling the investigation in house, I presume."

Vance nods. "We're not required to do anything. Just thought you should know."

He is excused then, and mutters a thanks. Descending the stairs to the bullpen, he shouts to her: "David, with me!"

McGee and Tony wear equally confused expressions, but Ziva knows. She stands and follows him, feeling a little like a dead man walking. He is silent until they get inside the elevator.

He flicks the switch and turns to her, ready to tell her to go home and rest and not come back for a week.

000

The phone rings, and she is still laughing when she raises it to her ear.

The words that are spoken to her don't quite connect straight away.

"He's what?" She needs confirmation that what she heard was correct.

_Dead. _

"Oh," she says, because they expect a response and she's not sure she can manage much more than that. They fill the silence for a while with details and condolences and information that she knows she won't remember after she puts the phone down. Finally: "Thank you for the call. I must go." It's curt, cold, and the caller expects nothing more. The dial tone in her ear bring her back down to earth.

She coughs, once, to cover the break in her face, then smiles widely and returns to her guests.

Gibbs finds out from Vance the next day.

000

They are sitting at her dinner table, having just finished Ziva's (almost) gourmet meal. Ducky is engaged in a conversation with Abby, who is flopped against McGee. Gibbs makes some remark about rule twelve, and McGee stiffens, but Abby, ever mocking of McGee, pulls him close and grins widely at Gibbs. Tony just turns to Ziva and shakes his head, smiling. "Great dinner, _darling_," he says, suppressing a laugh.

She crinkles her face and chuckles slightly. "Creepy, Tony."

He laughs then, and leans back in his chair. "Yeah, didn't feel right. Can't really picture you being all domestic, unless..." he trails off and looks her up and down lecherously.

She narrows her eyes at him, prepared to unleash ninja Ziva, but her curiosity gets the better of her. "Unless what?"

He grins. "Maid's outfit."

Despite herself, she laughs along with him, reveling in the jokes and the people and the alcohol buzzing through her veins.

The phone rings, and she is still laughing when she raises it to her ear. Her life is about to change forever.

000

Tony whispers in Ziva's ear: "Reckon we can slip out for a bit?"

She looks around the room again and smiles. "Later Tony." She puts a hand on his chest and laughs as he pouts at her. "I'm okay right here for now." In his arms, surrounded by the people she loves.

Her family.

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><p><em><strong>AN:** So I know that was possibly really confusing, but thoughts? Too weird for you? Too OOC? What did you think of the style? _

_Drop me a line and let me know :) How the weather? Write me a poem? Constrictive criticism welcome. _

_And, as always, favourite lines? _

_Please review, it's kind of sad, but it really does make my day! Thanks for reading. _


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